


A Little Support Goes A Long Way

by phoenixquest



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-01 18:35:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4030348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixquest/pseuds/phoenixquest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Claire Hawke lets Anders use her estate to write his manifesto in. She's tired of finding burnt-up bits in the fire, and convinces him to give himself more of a chance. The two spend a little time working together on his manifesto.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Support Goes A Long Way

Claire Hawke frowned as she picked a familiar bit of parchment out of the fire, using her magic to put out the small bits of flame clinging to it. Most of it was charred beyond recognition, but she saw a few of the words she’d expected to see – mages, Andraste, Circles.

She hated it when she kept finding bits of Anders’ manifesto in her fireplace. He wrote at the estate more often than not – she’d offered him the use of her library and all the parchment and ink he’d need, and after some arguing, he’d finally agreed to take her up on it. Lately, though, he seemed to grow increasingly frustrated at the whole thing, and she’d been seeing his work in the fire more often, usually crumpled and clearly tossed aside in anger.

This piece wasn’t remotely salvageable, so she sighed, shaking her head as she threw it back on the fire. She was going to have to have a talk with him about this.

*****

Claire returned late that evening, having been to visit Merrill for a little while. She wasn’t all that surprised to see a flickering light coming from the library – Anders was hard at work again, then.

She walked in to say hello, planning to offer him a meal, but saw him flinging a crumpled bit of parchment at the fireplace again. She deftly caught it before the flames could take it, shaking her head.

“Anders, you’ve got to stop that,” she said sternly, smoothing out the parchment as she walked over to the desk where he sat.

“You don’t understand,” Anders grumbled, not looking up at her. “It’s important to me, all right? I know it bothers you, but I don’t – “

“Uggghhhh,” Claire groaned in frustration, interrupting him. “It doesn’t bother me, you ridiculous man. How many different ways can I possibly say it?” He shook his head as though she were an irritating fly buzzing around it. “I’m tired of seeing you throwing your work away.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Anders said, shaking his head. He was still scribbling away on the fresh parchment. “I don’t even know if it can help. And if I do it wrong, it’s not going to get me anywhere. It has to be…right. I have to say it the right way, put the words right. It’s got to be perfect.” Claire rolled her eyes, skimming over the wrinkled parchment she held in her hands.

_Andraste suffered at the hands of magisters. Thus, she feared the influence of magic. But if the Maker blamed magic for the magisters’ actions in the Black City, why would he still gift us with it? The oppression of mages stems from the fears of men, not the will of the Maker._

“This is _good_ , though,” Claire said thoughtfully, scanning it over again. “I mean, you know my thoughts on the Maker and all, but this – this is well-reasoned, Anders. Why would you throw this away?”

This gave the other mage pause, making him look up at her at last. She saw dark circles under his eyes – not terribly surprising, though she wished he were better at taking care of himself.

“You – you think so?” he asked, incredulous. “Really?”

“Of course,” Claire said, furrowing her brow. “Have you ever known me to say something like that if I didn’t mean it?”

“I suppose not,” Anders considered. He stared at her a moment longer, as though thinking, and then gave a little half-smile. “And I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you this serious about anything.” Claire laughed.

“True,” she nodded. “But it _is_ important, and I mean it. This is well reasoned, and if you’re trying to appeal to some Chantry leader as opposed to this heathen nonbeliever mage, I think it’s a wonderful start.” Anders chuckled at her self-deprecation, knowing that she was fully proud of her non-belief in the Maker. It was one of few things they disagreed on, but she was amiable enough about the subject.

“You know you don’t have to read it at all,” Anders said, his cheeks taking on a pink tinge as he turned his gaze back down at the desk in front of him. “You don’t need to humor me.” Claire frowned again, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Anders, that’s nonsense,” she said crossly. “I am not _humoring_ you. I’m interested in what you’re doing. I think it’s quite admirable. Don’t you dare insult me by suggesting I’m merely humoring you.”

“I’m…sorry,” Anders managed, daring to look up at her again. She immediately softened at the chastened look on his face. “I don’t mean to be rude, I’m just not used to anyone caring. I mean, no one else really does and everything.” Claire sighed, feeling guilty. She knew he had so little support – she could hardly blame him. She reached over and put a hand on his feathered shoulder.

“Don’t be sorry,” she said, her voice gentle again. “I just…wish you’d believe me. I really do care, you know. You’re my best friend.”

“It’s just that most people are tired of hearing about it,” Anders said, sounding tired suddenly.

“Blast them,” Claire said, her grip on his shoulder tightening. “I don’t give a damn what they think. I’m here for you, Anders. Believe that.” He smiled at her.

“Thank you, Claire,” he said quietly, putting his hand on hers. “It really means everything to me.” She smiled back.

“Come on, then,” she said, pulling her hand back and holding out the wrinkled parchment. “What’s so wrong with this? You have a very good point. Expand on it.”

“You don’t think it’s too…pushy?” Anders asked, reconsidering the parchment as he took it from her. “Too heavy-handed?”

“Not at all,” Claire said. “In fact, I think you could stand to be a bit more heavy-handed. It’s all well and good to talk about how the Maker gifted us with magic, but what about the _ways_ magic is used? What use is magic if it’s kept locked up in the Circle? You’re a healer – how many people have you helped?”

“I can’t make it about me,” Anders said, shaking his head though he looked rather proud at what she said. “It undermines the greater point. It isn’t about me – it’s about all mages. The Circles, their oppression, the Chantry.”

“That’s true,” Claire said seriously, “but you can’t ignore the contributions of healers in general, at the very least. To add to your point – why would the Maker give us the ability to heal, to cure, to save people if he didn’t want us to use it?”

“Yes,” Anders said, his eyes widening in surprise. “That’s good.” He scrambled for his pen and ink, then paused to look at Claire again. “You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?” he asked. “You actually…care enough to take this seriously. To help.”

“Of course I do!” Claire said, passion breaking through her voice as it continued to rise while she talked. “You don’t have to do everything alone, Anders. And I’m a mage, too – my father was a mage. My sister was a mage. How could I brush it off? Do you think I liked living in fear of the Templars finding us my whole life? Worrying more about Bethany than myself?” She broke off, tears in her eyes at the thought of her beloved sister. “Of course I care, Anders,” she said, her voice more gentle. “I care about mages. I care that it’s not like this forever. I care about _you_ , you know.”

Anders blinked in surprise, then a grin spread across his face.

“Thank you,” he said feelingly. “And not just for that. For giving me a key, for letting me come in here and write, for being…understanding,” he finished awkwardly. Claire gave him a gentle smile.

“It’s all right, you know,” she said, knowing what he was referring to – he’d confessed feelings for her a while ago, and she’d had to say she didn’t return them. “I never meant to lead you on. I just…with Isabela, it’s…” she huffed, waving her hands around as though to try and explain what she couldn’t say.

“I know,” Anders nodded. “And believe me, I appreciate your friendship.” He frowned, ignoring his manifesto for the moment as he looked at her with concern. “She’s not back yet, I assume?”

“No,” Claire said, a longing in her voice. The pirate had left shortly after Claire’s duel with the Arishok, saying she ‘needed time’. It had been four months, and still no word from her.

“Are you all right?” Anders asked kindly.

“Yes,” Claire said, shaking her head at herself for pining. “I’m fine. Anyway, what about you? You look exhausted.”

“I’m a little tired,” Anders confessed. “But I really need to just…get this out.”

“All right,” Claire nodded. “Have you eaten, at least?”

“Yes,” Anders said with a small smile. “Orana brought me a bit of stew earlier. I felt guilty not eating it after she went to the trouble, so I had two bowls.” Claire laughed, delighted.

“Good,” she said approvingly. “I’m glad that someone else is as pushy as I am.” He grinned.

“I’ll just get back to this,” Anders said, turning back to his parchment. “You can go to bed, if you like. I can let myself out.”

“You should just stay here,” Claire said. “It’s not like I don’t have space for you. You know it’s safer.”

“I don’t like to impose,” Anders replied. Claire rolled her eyes.

“Get it through your thick head, mage,” she said, teasing in her voice, “you are my best friend and I care about you. You are _not_ an imposition, understand?” He smiled shyly up at her.

“Thank you, Claire,” he said. “I’ll consider it. Either way, I’ll be fine here, you should get some sleep.”

“I think I’d rather stay here,” Claire said. “I really am interested. What other ideas do you have? What else have you come up with? And I really think you ought to keep this,” she added, nudging the wrinkled parchment. “Just add on to it.”

“You sure you want to do this with me?” Anders asked, still skeptical.

“Quite sure,” Claire grinned. “Tell me everything.”

The two sat at the desk for another couple of hours, throwing ideas back and forth and building off of one another’s thoughts. Claire found the passion that Anders showed infectious, and after a little while she was nearly as worked up as he was. It was amazing the change that came over him, with just the little support she offered. He was alive, he was animated, and it was wonderful to watch.

Eventually the flames in the fireplace were dying down to embers, and Anders was clearly losing steam. It wasn’t much longer before his head was on the desk, his eyes closed, and Claire couldn’t suppress a smile at how calm he looked for a change. She reached over to fix his hair – a bit had come undone from where he had it tied back.

Claire was debating whether she ought to wake him up enough to get into the spare bed when suddenly a blue glow lit the room faintly. Her hand jerked away from Anders’ hair in surprise.

“Anders will not be comfortable if he remains in this position overnight,” Anders’ mouth said, though it was not Anders’ voice. Claire’s eyes widened in shock.

“Justice?” she asked tentatively. She’d only really seen him come out when Anders was angry or upset.

“Hawke,” the spirit in Anders’ body acknowledged, sitting up and looking at her properly. “Will you allow us to remain in your estate for the duration of the night?”

“Of – of course,” Claire said nervously. “I don’t mind. I never do.”

“You are anxious,” Justice said. It was impossible for her to read his tone. Was he angry?

“I’m sorry,” Claire hurried to say. “I just…I’ve never really spoken with you except when you were both angry before. Have I upset you? Or Anders?”

“No,” Justice said. She read his tone as slightly curious this time, though it was still hard for her to know if she was right. “I do not sleep, though I have learned that this mortal body requires Anders to do so.”

“Ah,” Claire said. Well, _that_ was a relief. Justice stared at her – at least, she thought that’s what he was doing, though his glowing blue eyes didn’t give much away.

“I wish you to know of my appreciation,” Justice finally said. “That you are so supportive of our cause brings Anders great joy, and it pleases me as well. So few bother to listen, let alone contribute.”

“Of course,” Claire said, nodding her head. “It’s very important. I will always support you. Er, both of you,” she added, wondering if it was all right to phrase it that way. Justice didn’t object, so she went on. “So…you can control his body?”

“Essentially, yes,” Justice said, nodding. It was very strange – it was somehow different than how Anders himself moved, but she was still watching Anders _do_ it.

“Can you get him to the guest room, then?”

“I can,” Justice affirmed.

“Good,” Claire said, relieved. “I didn’t want to leave him here like that all night.”

“You are an interesting human,” Justice mused, getting up. Again, he moved differently than Anders; it wasn’t anything she could put her finger on, but it was a difference she could notice.

“Thanks, I suppose?” Claire said, amused. “Shall I show you where to go?”

“I can recall, thank you,” Justice said before walking from the room.

Claire let out a breath she hadn’t really noticed she was holding. It wasn’t that she was afraid of Justice, exactly, but she didn’t _know_ him, either. She wasn’t sure how to act around him, and didn’t want to upset him. It had, at least, gone well this time. She was pleased to note he didn’t dislike her, anyway.

She glanced at the manifesto Anders had been working on, noticing the writing becoming far messier as it went down the page – when Anders had started falling asleep. With a fond smile, she sat down at the desk, pulling out a fresh page. As neatly as possible, she copied out every word he’d written, making sure it was perfect. She didn’t want him to have to rewrite it the next day.

Smiling to herself, realizing she missed Isabela just a little less for the time spent with her friend, Claire headed off to bed. 


End file.
